Seattle By Twilight: Silver Rain's Story
by D. Russel Smith
Summary: One-shot featuring a vampire, a deadly virus and a disfunctional team through the eyes of an anti-hero. R/R


Erik Marduk was having a bad day. Of course, it is a rarity to have anything else when you are an amnesiac with silver skin. On his bike, he weaved through traffic towards his home, ignoring the occasional surprised gasp of drivers next to him at stoplights. Driving at 50 miles an hour was safer than what he would have preferred, but going slightly under the speed limit draws far less attention than committing attempted murder, and attention was one thing he did not want. As he rounded the final corner to his destination, Erik noticed a Yamaha Rapier nearly identical to his parked in his spot. Grumbling as he parked, the silver man in black trudged up to the ramshackle home of Garret Jax.  
  
"Come on in," came a gruff reply to his knock, and Erik entered through the rotting wooden door.  
  
Inside was a well lit home in chaos. The floor lay caked in empty beer cans, clothes draped the furniture, and in the living room stood two very different men. Sitting at a computer was Jax: a balding, bearded man with black hair. Standing next to him was Drake, a very handsome, well built man in dark glasses and combat clothing, with a sword strapped very conspicuously to his back.  
  
"Oh, hi, Rain," Drake greeted.  
  
"Here," Garret said, tossing Erik a beer, "what took you so long?"  
  
"Traffic," Erik replied simply, "where's Ghost?"  
  
"On his way," Drake answered, "apparently J. has something for us."  
  
Oh, now that's a shock, Erik thought to himself sarcastically.  
  
For a time, very little happened. Erik opened his beer with his nearly vampiric fangs and drank sparingly as he contemplated his own fate, trying in vain to remember anything having to do with his past. Staring out the window, lost in thought, he barely even registered the sound of rotor blades drawing steadily nearer. It was Drake who first noticed that it was not Synthetic Ghost who was piloting the incoming aircraft. Spinning, the mercenary urgently cried "Get down!" and the others had only seconds to act before a maelstrom of lead and steel penetrated the house walls.  
  
Erik dove behind a couch, drawing first a dagger, then, seeing the futility in such an action, replaced it with a pistol. Drake had his back against a wall, his revolver at the ready, and Jax was frantically searching for a way out. Glancing out the nearest window revealed four Lone Star combat choppers hovering over the building. Without aiming, Erik unloaded a silenced three round burst at the malignant vessels, and heard first the loud crack of Drake's weapon, then Jax shouting "This way!"  
  
All three men fled through the door, Erik taking up the rear, and when they exited, they all scattered. Erik didn't bother to check where the others were going or how they fared. If he was to be of any assistance to them later, he couldn't afford to get himself killed now because he was worried about them. Sprinting for his rapier, Erik felt the sharp sting of at least two bullets striking him, but not solidly enough to penetrate his armored coat. When he reached it, Erik leapt onto the saddle of his bike, started it, and sped off in the first direction he saw, pulling into every ally and unexpected turn he could. At this point, Erik no longer cared what speed he travelled at. Nothing, stoplights, other vehicles, even the occasional pedestrian on the sidewalk, were of a concern to him.  
  
It was only after his escape became certain that the familiar vibration of his phone kicked in inside of his pocket. Expertly leaning back to ride the motorcycle with no hands, Erik answered the call to hear Drake practically scream "Rain! Thank God you're okay. Where should we go?"  
  
Slightly touched by the genuine concern in his comrade's voice, but unwilling to show it, Erik answered "258 West Cheshire, my place, stay outside," and hung up.  
  
Retaking the handlebars, Erik swerved into the next lane to turn, considering just how to properly obtain vengeance against this particular group of Lone Star officials. He couldn't burst inside, weapons drawn, he'd get butchered. If he wasted time talking to the others about it, Lone Star would escape. Erik chuckled to himself, And Jax was complaining that his gas main was leaking into the house, he thought, If he could see the future, he--wait! That's it!  
  
Erik sped off to his own home then, convinced he'd found the perfect method of revenge. As he rounded the corner to his middle class home, he saw Drake and Jax standing outside of the house across the street. He pulled into his driveway left his bike running, mildly amused at the confused expressions on the faces of his compatriots, and called them over.  
  
"This is 259," Drake said as he strode across the street, "you said 258."  
  
"I know," Erik replied, "it was to throw off anyone who could have been monitering our calls."  
  
"That explains the 'wait outside' bit," Jax observed.  
  
"Go on in," Erik said "I have something to do before I join you."  
  
With that, Erik pulled away and rode calmly back to Jax's former home. There was no traffic, everyone wanted to get to a trid to watch the coverage of the latest attack by Lone Star on the shadowrunner menace. Pulling into an alley across from his destination, Erik once again left his bike running, and began rummaging through dumpsters and garbage cans to pick up seemingly unrelated and useless materials.  
Afterward Erik crept up to the house, where the attack helicopters had gone, replaced by three or four Lone Star ground vehicles. No officers were outside, so he crept on past the building. As Erik passed a window, he hazarded a glimpse inside and saw a man with enough cyberware to power a city block. His arms and half of his skull were obvious cyber replacements, and there was no telling how much was synthetic or hidden. The man had his back to the window and, judging by the way he was issuing orders, was also obviously in charge. It wasn't until he turned to speak to a coworker that Erik noticed that none of these Lone Star officials bore the Lone Star insignia. Instead, all of them, the leader included, had an encircled crimson waterdrop.  
  
The Organization of Blood, Erik thought to himself.  
  
Wait, how do I know that? I've never seen any of them or that mark before. A memory?  
  
Shaking it off, the silver man continued around the house, to the gas main. There, he spread out the materials he had gathered earlier, along with two explosive bullets, and used them to jury-rig a time-bomb. Erik attached the improvised explosive to the pipe leading to the house, set the timer for roughly thirty seconds, and bolted back to his bike, no longer concerned with stealth but rather escaping the forthcoming backdraft.  
  
Startled shouts filtered out of the home as Erik straddled the saddle and kicked the bike into motion. Speeding away, he stopped at the intersection and watched as a single officer came out the front door, looking for the trespasser. "Bang," Erik said quietly, just before the building erupted into flame, sending the officer through the window of the house across the street, "--you're dead."  
  
Chuckling about his victory, Erik rode home. The trip was uneventful, and he arrived shortly. Inside, everyone immediately asked three entirely different questions that all meant "Where have you been?"  
  
In response Erik simply turned on the trid, where all channels were reporting about the explosion believed to kill every Lone Star official who had been investigating today's earlier attack. Turning around, Erik noticed a newcomer. This man was perfectly bland, no outstanding features, no noticable clothing.  
  
"Hello, Ghost," Erik greeted "Where's the wasp?"  
  
"Back yard," was the reply, "covered it pretty good."  
  
Erik's answer was a simple nod, followed by "Jax, get on the computer and look up the Organization of Blood."  
  
"What's the Organization of Blood?" Drake inquired.  
  
"I don't know," Erik replied irritably, "That's why he's looking it up."  
  
Drake adopted a perterbed expression, and cantered over to Jax to see if he could be of any assistance. Afterward, Erik went into the kitchen to see Jax reheating fried chicken from the night before, a new beer in hand. Erik proceeded to the refrigerator and produced ingredients for a ham sandwitch. Eating bits of it as he prepared the snack, he replaced the catchup, mayonaise and half-an-onion into the refrigerator and went to watch the coverage of his exploit. He hadn't made it to his chair when Ghost came over to him and said "J. just called, he wants us at the Ares building."  
  
Stuffing the rest of the sandwitch in his mouth, Erik stalked out the door, hopped onto his motorcycle and drove off. Avoiding the few other motorists on the road, Erik arrived at the Seattle branch of the Ares Corporation without incident. Miraculously, the other two men arrived at the Johnson's office at the exact same time as he.  
  
Striding past the secretary without so much as a glance, Erik entered the office to find Mr. Johnson sitting at a desk cluttered with neatly stacked papers, a computer, an intercom and several other office supplies. "Ah, hello," said the handsome man behind the desk, "Thank you all for coming so quickly . . . Where are Trench and Megahurt?"  
  
Unaware, Erik looked over as Ghost answered "Megahurt wouldn't answer his phone, and when I called the number Trench gave us, I got some guy named Mox who said he wasn't there."  
  
Mr. Johnson pondered this for a moment, then said "Then I suppose you'll have to handle this on your own. Tell me, have any of you ever heard of the HMMV virus?"  
  
Ghost seemed to be the only one who had, so the Johnson elaborated, "The HMMV virus is what causes humans to become ghouls. It is transmitted by biting and occasionally in extreme cases through clawing. The virus is fairly well controlled, but that could all change very soon. We believe that this man--" at this point, the Johnson held up a photograph of an unattractive man with stringy black hair, pale skin, angular features and a slightly pug nose in a white lab coat "--is attempting to develop an airborn version of the virus. I'm sure I don't need to stress the importance of keeping this from happening, the casualties alone would be deterrant enough, to say nothing of the social and political reprecussions. His name is Doctor Alexander Mobius, and he was the leading official in the field of the HMMV virus until he himself succombed to it. He is the most extreme case ever recorded. Apparently, at his stage of infection, the virus has literally transformed him into a living vampire. This is the only information we have on him. Your job is to find him and stop him from completing the virus. Bring back all research if possible, if not destroy it. And I want him brought back alive."  
  
At his last word, the Johnson held his gaze at Erik, as if to say that it would be his fault alone if the creature known as Mobius was killed. "If he is killed," the Johnson continued, "your pay will be halved. Are there any questions?"  
  
Erik didn't bother to wait for the others to ask, and simply left, pulling out one of his daggers and idly spinning it from hand to hand. When he returned home, Jax had little information on the Organization, so Erik asked him to look up any information on Mobius. Jax complied, returning to the computer. Erik went into his own room and practiced the martial arts that he had no idea how he knew. he wasn't all that good, but he seemed to be quite adept at making a subdual weapon cause lethal damage.  
  
After he had worked up a sweat, Erik sat down with the only clue he had to his identity: his identification card. Erik Marduk, he thought to himself, twenty-four years old, caucasian, brown hair, five feet, five inches tall. But the only name I've ever known myself as was Silver Rain, the great shadowrunner. Who am I?  
  
A knock at the bedroom door tore him from his reverie as Jax said "Hey, chummer, Drake called. He says he has a lead on that Mobius guy."  
  
"Alright," Erik replied, "did you find anything?"  
  
Jax didn't respond right away, he was focused on Erik's chest. Looking down, Erik saw why. Instead of bodily hair, silvery, fish-like scales coated his torso. Jax started back to reality, offering a half- hearted apology and saying "Only that he was a big kahuna in the HMMV research area. And on the Organization of Blood, all I could find was . . ." Jax paused here as if contemplating whether or not he should continue with his find, then said "a list of a whopping two names. Apparently they were the special forces of the bloods. Rigor Mortis and Hail."  
  
A flash of unfelt sensory information raced behind Erik's eyes. He was standing in a room with three other men and a woman, one man dressed very similar to he, black trench coat and fidora, but obviously mexican. Another of the men was a troll, wearing a long sleeveless coat and tattooed like a mage. The woman was attractive with short blonde hair, and was an obvious mage, with foci and fetishes hanging on her person like jewelry. The last was the man he had seen earlier, inside Jax's home, but with far less cyberware. As Erik approached, the man in the black fidora said "Hi, you must be the new guy."  
  
"I don't think we need him," the troll said, "He'll just get in the way."  
  
"Well it's better to have four than three," the woman said, "he'll probably come in handy."  
  
"I'm with Poppy on this," the Blood man said, "welcome to the group. I'm called Rigor Mortis."  
  
As suddenly as the memory started, it was gone, and Jax was left still going on about how that was all he could find. Erik mumbled a thanks and shut the door to get dressed, unable to fully accept that this man who destroyed Jax's home and tried to kill the both of them and Drake was once a comrade in arms. Throwing his hat on as he exited the door, Erik called Drake.  
  
"Rain?" Drake answered.  
  
"Yeah," Erik replied "what's going on?"  
  
"I got a lead," Drake said "meet us at the Docwagon building."  
  
Erik was already on the road by the time he had hung up. Docwagon was in the barrens of Seattle, carefully positioned to make the most profit. By the time Erik arrived, Drake and Ghost were waiting for him. Small greetings were exchanged, and they entered into a wide lobby with a single female receptionist. Erik took careful note of the fact that there were no guards of any sort, but servailance cameras were placed in many places. Ghost was the first to act, saying "Hi, we are working for, uh, Lone Star, and, uh, we need information on the, um, HMMV virus. We'd like to speak to your patients."  
  
The receptionist looked rather unconvinced, and immediately asked to see the three men's credentials. Erik wasn't in the mood for these undercover games, and lashed out with "How dare you question our authority?! We're not just any old Lone Stars, we happen to be special agents of the Organization of Blood! Now you are going to assist us in every possible way, or we are going to throw you into the deepest darkest cell we can find, and proceed from there. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
Immediately intimidated, the woman indicated toward the virus ward, and Erik and Ghost went off in that direction. Erik looked back once to see Drake flirting with the receptionist and continued on his way. Well, he thought to himself, at least that will keep the skirt form breathing down our necks with those cameras.  
  
Erik and Ghost split up, checking all of the patients in the virus ward. Erik switched on his thermographics and began scanning the body heat of everyone in the area. Although there were a few with unusually cold body temperatures, none of them fit the description of the mad doctor. What are we doing here, anyway? Erik was thinking, Something tells me that if this Mobius is actually trying to create the disease to kill us all, he wouldn't turn himself in to the Docwagon.  
  
When Erik came out of the last room, he found Ghost waiting in the hallway, stuffing a few syringes into his duffel bag. Erik was curious and asked "What's with the needles?"  
  
"Blood samples," Ghost replied, "I think they're infected with the virus."  
  
Erik raised an eyebrow and followed up with "Okay . . . I take it, then, that you've had no luck finding our prey."  
  
"Nope," was Ghost's reply "I'm gonna see if Drake can distract the lobby lady long enough for me to check their records and such."  
  
"I can make distracting her unnecessary," Erik offered, thinking that killing her would be infinitely easier.  
  
Ghost adopted a mildly horrified look and said "No, no we don't want to do that. Distracting is fine for me."  
  
Erik shrugged and the two men returned to the lobby where Drake was standing alone at the desk.  
  
"Where's the woman?" Ghost asked.  
  
In response, Drake pointed to a door on Erik's right. Erik opened the door to find a broom closet with the receptionist bound, gagged, half- dressed, and unconscious inside. Erik shut the door and gave Drake an accusing glare. Drake just shrugged and said "I conned her into a quickie in the closet. She fell asleep and I tied her up. Make's the job a little easier."  
  
Erik adopted an uncomprehending look, then shook it off and turned to Ghost, saying "Well, the computer's all yours. See what you can find. Drake? You and I should check the other wings."  
  
The other two men agreed, and before Drake and Erik could leave, Ghost said "Hold on, chummers, open your lines up to a conference call, so we can keep in contact."  
  
Erik opened a conference line and tested it to be certain that it was functional, and proceeded on. He and Drake entered at least two wings of patients with similar results as before. Erik was beginning to get irritated when Ghost spoke over the comm "Hey, chums, something you might want to check out, the camera in room B-19 just blacked out for no apparent reason."  
  
"We're on our way," Drake said, and Erik moved in the direction of the room.  
  
"Oh," Drake said when they met up, "I forgot to give you this."  
  
Drake handed Erik a box with fifteen glass-tipped bullets filled with a glowing purple liquid. Confused, Erik looked up just in time to hear Drake say "They're UV rounds, apparently extremely lethal to Ghouls."  
  
"Okay," Erik said, "thanks."  
  
Erik pulled out a pistol and emptied the clip of ammunition to replace them with the ultraviolet bullets and the two continued to the room where the security camera had been knocked out. Upon entry, Erik switched his thermographics on again and saw that the victim had a low body temperature. Drake checked the treatment papers and said "this guy's in here for transplant surgery, not HMMV."  
  
"Then why is his body so cold?" Erik posed.  
  
Drake replaced the papers and said "Ghost?"  
  
"Yeah," Ghost replied, "the camera's back on in there, it came back up a few minutes ago. But the one in A-3 just went off."  
  
Without another word, Drake and Erik both rushed towards the room, just before they rounded the corner to reach it, Ghost said "Yeah, it's back on again."  
  
"Come on," Drake said, "I've already been to that one, and the guy in there had normal heat output."  
  
The two men entered the patient's room, and Erik saw that this man now had an extremely low body temperature. Drake obviously saw the same thing through his glasses, because he said "What in the frag . . .?"  
  
Erik checked the treatment sheets and found that this man was suffering from severe influenza, which meant his body heat should have been higher than normal levels. He adopted a frustrated look and heard Ghost say "A-11."  
  
Both men nearly sprinted to the door, each with a pistol drawn. As they opened the door, they saw a man from behind with stringy black hair in a white lab coat. The man immediately spun to see the interlopers, and Erik recognized by the pale skin stretched tautly over angular features and a slightly pug nose that this was indeed Mobius.  
  
"Hands up," Drake ordered, his weapon trained on the vampire's head, "you're coming with us."  
  
Mobius was disinclined to agree and hurled a bedpan at drake, throwing off his shot. Erik, however, was possessed of no such malady, and fired two rounds that hit him squarely in the chest. The glass bullets shattered on impact releasing the liquid which was visibly burning through the flesh of the undead man. Mobius let out a hiss of pain, and lunged at Erik, slashing with razor-sharp talons across his chest. Erik stumbled back and saw as Drake fired one last purple bullet right into the back of Mobius' head. At this the mock physician hissed again, his eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and he collapsed.  
  
Erik tenderly touched the lacerations on his chest, cutting neatly through his sneak-suit. The rubbery compound would be easy to repair, but the slices would be irritating. Erik was ripped away from his introspection by Drake's surprised cry. Erik looked and saw the mercenary pointing to the floor, where Mobius was crumbling to dust before their very eyes. Erik immediately grabbed a nearby medicinal pouch and, dumping the contents onto the floor, began scooping bits of Mobius into the bag. When the bag was full, Erik realized that if this continued, his pay would be halved, and lunged to the bed in the room, holding an invalid patient. Grabbing the blood which was being steadily dripped into the patient's system, Erik slammed the bag into the monster's fangs, watching the blood slowly enter the creature's mouth and slide down his throat.  
  
At first nothing happened, and Erik was about to try to explain his actions to a baffled Drake, when the body suddenly made the full transformation to a dusty substance and picked up in the room like a whirlwind, blinding the two able-bodied men, filling their noses and mouths, and just as suddenly as it happened, the dustcloud was gone, escaping through an open window. Erik and Drake were both left on the floor, coughing.  
  
"Guys?" Ghost was saying over the comm link, "Guys? Rain, Drake! Respond!"  
  
"Y-yeah," Drake choked out, "we're here."  
  
"What happened?" Ghost demanded.  
  
"Mobius . . ." Drake replied "crumbled to dust, then pulled this wierd sandstorm routine. Kinda fragged with us."  
  
"You gonna be alright?" Ghost asked, less worried now.  
  
"We'll be fine," Erik said curtly, "come on, we have to go."  
  
Drake followed Erik out the door to the room and the building, caught up with Ghost, and all three headed for the Ares building. Erik was driving steadily when his vision suddenly gave out for no apparent reason, and for a split second he was left blind. Then his vision returned, as if it had never gone. Suddenly everything Erik had ever heard about the HMMV virus flashed through his mind, and he realized that when he and Drake inhaled some of that dust cloud, they had both been infected.  
  
When he arrived at the Ares building, he found Drake walking towards the door. How do we always manage to get here at the same time? Erik wondered to himself.  
  
Erik greeted Drake and the two men entered the building to find Johnson on the ground floor with his two troll bodyguards, and Ghost just exiting the elevator. As they approached, Erik noticed the troll mage using his strange astral sight on them all again, and Erik, not in the mood for it, picked up a rock from just outside the door, and flung it at the trog's head. The projectile stopped just inches from the mage's face, and his eyes cleared, indicating that his astral sight hand been interrupted, and that he was displeased with said interruption.  
  
Erik gave a satisfied grunt and the three men all sat down to talk to their employer. Johnson looked irritable and got right to the point, saying "What have you got for me?"  
  
Erik held up the medicinal pouch and said "This is what we have of Mobius."  
  
Drake continued to detail what had happened as Erik handed the bag to the Johnson, who in turn handed it to the mage to take to a back room. Drake explained how the three had tried researching the man, which led them to Docwagon, how they had found the good doctor and thought they had killed them, and Drake had also figured out that they had been infected and let the Johnson in on this knowledge.  
  
Raising an eyebrow, Johnson said "Well, then, in compensation for the two of your . . . affliction, I'll give you this."  
  
Mr. Johnson handed the three men a credstick each and said "You'll have to find him again. This time, I want the whole thing, not just a hand."  
  
Erik nodded and left, not bothering to wait for anything else. He just wanted to get some sleep. He drove home thinking of the virus that now infected him, and wishing it would just go away. Hindsight is 20/20, Erik thought to himself But if this keeps up, I'll be completely blind.  
  
Upon arrival, Erik found Jax eating a sandwitch and several empty beer cans. Erik sighed and said "Do me a favor and pick those up before you pass out, alright?"  
  
Jax nodded and continued watching the trid. Erik went into his room, stripped down and went to sleep. The sleep was fitful and assaulted Erik with dreams. Bullets were flying through the air, to one side was Garret Jax with a shotgun, firing over the crate he was taking cover from, to the other was the woman he remembered being with Rigor Mortis. Erik felt the fear and panic begin to overwhelm him, when the voice of Rigor Mortis yelled "Get down!" and the same man dove into Erik, barely getting the two of them out of the path of an explosive backdraft.  
  
Erik woke up in a cold sweat. He looked around to find it was morning, birds chirped idly outside his window, the sun's rays casting strange light patterns on the floor. Erik threw off his silky sheets and got dressed. He left his room to find Jax curled up in a ball on the floor, surrounded by empty beer cans. Grumbling to himself, Erik went to the refrigerator and pulled out a gallon of milk and started to drink. Somewhere in between his third and fourth gulp, his phone rang. Replacing the jug, Erik put his phone to his ear and said greeted with "What?"  
  
"Well good morning to you, too," Drake said from the other end, "Rough night?"  
  
"Nevermind," Erik replied, "what have you got?"  
  
"I found him," Drake answered, "He's in the sewers."  
  
"Where?" Erik asked.  
  
"Meet us at thirty-fourth and Chestnut," Drake said.  
  
"I'm on my way," Erik replied and hung up.  
  
Mounting his bike, Erik sped to the meeting place, where Drake and Ghost were waiting by a grate into the sewers. Erik parked and activated the security alarm on his rapier, and joined his teammates. "I did a bunch of stay-up research last night," Drake said "and it led me here."  
  
Erik nodded and the three men entered. The sewers were not well lit, so Erik switched to his low light vision. Rats scurried about as the three men approached, trailing sewage water onto the walkways. Stone panelling dating back to the nineteenth century surrounded them and led them through a laberynthe of tunnelwork. Just when Erik was about to suggest they turn back and check some of the tunnels they bypassed, Ghost shot out a hand, stopping all of the men in their tracks.  
  
"Look," the rigger said, pointing to a spot on the wall.  
  
Erik strained his eyes, and for a moment thought his companion was beginning to halucinate, but then saw what he was talking about. A thin, clear fishing line was attached to the wall and cut across the tunnel. Drake crept forward to closer inspect the wire, when an unseen camera- turret swivelled toward him and opened fire. Erik grabbed Drake by the collar and yanked him clear of the burst, and all three men retreated out of range of the security device. Erik then switched on his thermographic vision and saw that the wire was hot, and connected to a hotter mass on either side of the wall.  
  
"Hold on," Erik said, focusing on the extremely hot barrel of the camera turret. Loading an explosive round into one of his pistols, Erik aimed and fired. The bullet traveled straight into the barrel, exploding at the shaft, rendering the barrel of the weapon useless. Drake then told everyone to stand back, and shot another round into the trip-wire. The ensuing explosion didn't have enough force to affect the men where they were, and they continued on their way.  
  
Passing the area where the trip-wire had been, the camera-gun began firing again, causing all three to instinctively crouch and get ready to sprint. But they soon realized that the damage Erik had done kept any accuracy whatsoever from filtering though, so they simply continued on. A few twists and turns later found them at a doorway. Inside were Mobius, in his white lab coat, shuffling back and forth between different people chained to his wall. On the far wall were a man and a woman, both looking sickly, as if they'd been here for far too long. On the left wall was one other man who Mobius extracted blood from, and left the room without ever even noticing the trespassers. On the right were an elderly woman and one man covered in dermal plating, fully cybernetic body-suit, and cyber-helmet covering his face.  
  
The tree men hid from view as Mobius came back into the room from a door on the left wall. He held a test tube with a dark colored liquid, and watched intently as the liquid turned blue. Roaring and flingint the glass container against a wall, Mobius cried "It didn't work!" and slashed the throat of the man whose blood had just been extracted with his claws. Regaining his composure, the doctor picked up a hypodermic needle from a table in the center of the room and strode over to the mechanical man on the right wall. Placing the needle point against the cybernetic ninja's chest, Mobius pushed and the needle bent.  
  
Frustrated, Mobius picked up a thicker needle, drew back, and slammed it into the man's chest with all his might, and the needle penetrated the armor. Extracting more blood, Mobius went back into the private room and closed the heavy wooden door. Drake got up and walked over to the people hanging on the wall, a horrified look on his face. Ghost couldn't take his eyes off of the corpse hanging on the left wall. The cyborg ninja seemed to be watching them all curiously, but remained silent. Erik stood and loaded a clip of UV shells and waited. Drake walked over to the wooden door and cracked it open and peered inside. Ghost joined him and a few minutes later both men were nearly hurled back as the door flew open to reveal an ecstatic Mobius saying "It worked! It's the right for--" then he stopped when he saw the intruders.  
  
"Who the hell are you--wait! You're the two from Docwagon!"  
  
Drake and Erik both held up their weapons and kept them trained on the vampire. Mobius saw Ghost back away and draw his submachine gun and then he sighed and said "What do you people want with me?"  
  
"The virus," Ghost said, "we can't let you complete the airborn version of the HMMV virus."  
  
Mobius adopted a blank expression and said "What?"  
  
Drake elaborated "The airborn HMMV strain you've been trying to make. We can't let you finish it."  
  
Mobius looked at Drake as if he were insane, and said "I've been trying to find a cure for the virus, you nitwit!"  
  
"Sure," Ghost said, unconvinced, "and rainbows lead to pots of gold."  
  
Erik, however, wasn't sure what to believe. Drake, however, seemed certain that Mobius was telling the truth, and said as much.  
  
"No, guys," Drake said, "I believe him."  
  
"Then," Ghost said, "he's not trying to make an airborn virus?"  
  
"I've been trying to find a cure, as I said," Mobius interrupted, "but I did stumble onto an airborn version of the virus by mistake. It's me. The dust-cloud you saw me become earlier was the airborne virus."  
  
"Speaking of which," Drake said, "you infected us with that drek. Were you saying that the blood you extracted from the metal guy worked?"  
  
"Yes," Mobius said, "I found the cure. I still need to test it, to be certain, but I believe I have finally succeeded."  
  
Drake looked at Erik and Ghost, then said "Test it on me."  
  
Mobius looked surprised, then said "Very well, I'll need your arm."  
  
Erik finally lowered his weapon, reasonably sure that Mobius was not going to attack. Drake proffered his arm and Mobius injected the pitch black liquid into his bloodstream. Drake screamed and collapsed on the floor, writhing and convulsing. Erik brought his weapon back up and glared at the vampire. Mobius calmly held a palm up and when Drake finally returned to his feet, he said "I feel better. I don't feel so out of it anymore."  
  
Erik put the weapon away and looked at the people chained to the wall. This is unnecessary, Erik thought to himself, these people have suffered enough. Better that they die than have to live with this memory. Better that they die and find peace and live to become like me.  
  
Erik bitterly asked "So what do you do with these people now?"  
  
Mobius shrugged and said "They are no longer important, do with them as you will. It's him--" and Mobius pointed toward the cyborg ninja "that I need to keep. His blood contains the cure."  
  
Erik then drew one of his crescent daggers, the one he called Wraith, and placed it to the throat of one of the men on the wall. Whispering an apology into the man's ear, Erik was about to end his life, when he felt thousands of volts of electricity course through his body. Erik collapsed and looked back to see Drake standing over him, his hardliner gloves still smoking with electrical output. Erik glared at his comrade, stood up, and left.  
  
Erik walked back into the sewer system, beyond angry about what his teammate had done to him, and called Mr. Johnson.  
  
"Mr. J's office," came the perky voice of his secretary.  
  
"I need to speak to Johnson immediately," Erik barked.  
  
"Okay," the woman said unperturbed, "who's making the request?"  
  
"Tell him it's Silver Rain," Erik replied irritably.  
  
"Please hold," the woman said, and her voice was replaced by the music of The Beatles.  
  
Grinding his teeth at the hideous music, Erik waited until he heard the familiar clear voice of his employer answer with "What is it?"  
  
"We found Mobius," Erik replied, "but he's not trying to make a virus, he's trying to cure it. He succeeded, too. Drake is no longer infected. The others sided with him, and are most likely coming up with ways to fake the good doctor's death, so that he can work in peace. I can brief you on the coordinates, so you can send a team of muscle here."  
  
There was a pause on the other end, then the Johnson said "I want that cure. I want every bit of that cure. I don't care what your teammates think, I want you to bring me that cure."  
  
"The only sample he had was used on Drake. You can probably distill it from his blood if need be. What about the doctor?"  
  
There was no hesitation as the Johnson coldly said "Kill him. He's of no further use to us," and hung up.  
  
Kill him? Erik thought to himself, He's trying to help people.  
  
Erik shook his head and trudged back to the cavern where Mobius made his lair. When he arrived, he found the others had gone, along with all of the people hanging on the wall. Mobius turned as he injected himself with the cure, waited for a moment, then hurled the syringe away.  
  
"It wasn't strong enough," he said, "it couldn't cure someone as advanced as me."  
  
Erik was being pulled in two different directions. His professional nature told him to kill this man and be done with it; his desire to do the right thing told him to seek out his teammates and consult their views. Finally, he said "Are you going to cure me?"  
  
Mobius turned and said "I'll Fed-Ex it to you, now go away."  
  
What the vampire said irritated Erik, and when compounded with the anger he was already feeling, it was just enough to let the professionalism win out over his heart. Erik pulled out his pistol loaded with UV bullets and concealed it behind his person, and said "I'm sorry, doctor Mobius."  
  
Mobius turned again, saying "Sorry for what?"  
  
Erik said "Bang," held up his pistol and loosed the entire ten round clip at the monster, "you're dead."  
  
Mobius screamed in pain as the bluish liquid ate through his flesh. Erik then turned and fled out of the sewers, not stopping as he passed Ghost, Drake, and the cybernetic ninja with them. Erik rushed to his motorcycle and raced to the Ares building. Entering, he found the Johnson sitting at his desk with his bodyguards in the lobby. Erik said "Mission complete."  
  
The Johnson nodded and handed Erik a cred stick and motioned for him to leave. Erik turned and walked out of the building and into the parking lot. He stood by his rapier and looked at his cred stick thinking to himself that he had just killed the only man who could have saved his life, he had condemned thousands of innocent, undeserving people to die from that virus, and he had turned his back on his comrades for money. Erik Marduk was having a bad day. 


End file.
